The bell for second period rang, and Lena slipped into the art room, heart still hammering from her morning encounter. The familiar scent of wet clay and acrylic paint normally soothed her—but today every brushstroke felt charged, as if her pencils trembled in anticipation.
Ms. Hartley, their art teacher, smiled at the class. "Today we'll be exploring emotions through portraiture. I want you to pick someone who haunts your mind—someone you've only ever seen in your dreams or imagination—and capture their essence in charcoal."
A murmur rippled through the students. Lena's breath caught. Haunts your mind… She slid into her seat next to Maya, her best friend since middle school.
"What are you drawing?" Maya whispered as she unpacked her supplies.
Lena stared at the blank page in her sketchbook, then at the door. A few feet away, the hallway beyond the window looked bathed in moonlight—though it was only late morning. Shadows pooled strangely in the corner. Her pulse quickened.
"I—I don't know yet," she murmured, flipping to a fresh sheet. "Give me a second."
Ms. Hartley began a brief lecture on capturing emotion: the tilt of an eyebrow, the curve of a lip, the look in someone's eyes. Lena's thoughts drifted back to Aiden's molten gaze, to the way the fence had hummed under her fingertip. She picked up her charcoal stick and sketched the curve of a face—sharp cheekbones, a pointed chin, and most important of all, eyes that glowed golden in the darkness.
As she drew, the classroom noises faded: the scrape of her chair feet, the whisper of pages turning, even Ms. Hartley's voice. In its place, she heard a soft sigh behind her. She glanced up—and froze.
A pale figure stood by the back wall, barely more than a silhouette at first. Its shoulders were draped in what looked like shifting mist. But its eyes—two pinpricks of gold—matched her drawing exactly.
Lena's hand shook. She rubbed the charcoal on the page, hoping it was a trick of light. But when she looked again, the ghostly form remained, unmoving, watching.
"Lena?" Maya's voice was low but urgent. "Who is that?"
Lena blinked. The figure flickered, then dissolved into the pale sunbeams streaming through the window. Her classmates were oblivious, heads bent over their own work.
She closed her eyes, took a steadying breath, then reopened them. The portrait on her page was almost complete: that haunting face framed by curling wisps of fog. She traced the eyes again, hardening the charcoal until they burned on the page.
A tap at her shoulder made her jump. She looked over to see Aiden standing just outside the window, his golden eyes locked on hers. Panic and relief warred in her chest.
He mouthed one word: "Safe."
She exhaled. The unnatural chill in the room receded. Aiden faded from sight.
Ms. Hartley's voice cut through the haze. "Lena, would you share your work with the class?"
All eyes turned toward her. Lena swallowed, clamped her free hand over the sketchbook, and shook her head. "I'm… not finished."
Her cheeks burned. The teacher nodded, moving on to the next student, and Lena sank low in her seat.
When the bell finally rang, Lena bolted from the room, sketchbook pressed to her chest. She didn't see Aiden until he rose from the empty hallway, leaning casually against the lockers.
"You saw it," he said quietly.
Lena's voice was a whisper. "You mean… that ghost?"
He nodded, stepping closer. "A wraith, yes. Drawn by your art. Your sight brings them here."
She bit her lip. "Why me? Why does my drawing call them?"
"Because you are a bridge." His gaze softened. "Your sketches crack the veil. But right now, you're untrained—so they slip in uncontrolled."
Lena's throat was tight. "So what do I do?"
Aiden reached into his coat pocket and produced a small leather pouch. He untied it, revealing a handful of charcoal sticks threaded with silver filigree. "These are layered with protective wards. Use them to draw—and control—the veil."
She lifted one stick, feeling its weight. Warmth pulsed through her fingertips. The hallway lights flickered—a ripple of unseen energy—and Lena's breath caught.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He smiled, a flicker of something gentle in his golden gaze. "Come find me after school. There's more you need to see… and more you need to learn."
As Aiden disappeared around the corner, Lena opened her sketchbook to a fresh page. She pressed the warded charcoal to paper and tentatively drew a simple circle. The line glowed for an instant before settling into black. Then she sketched a small figure inside—its eyes already shining back at her.
Lena looked up at the empty hallway and let a small, determined smile spread across her face. The veil was calling—and this time, she would be ready.